


Expressed as an Action; Experienced as a Feeling

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Enjolras, hand holding, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Amis are having a movie night at Enjolras' and Enjolras and Grantaire are sitting next to each other and Grantaire’s hand is right there and Enjolras wants to hold it so much but what if Grantaire reacts badly? Cue Enjolras freaking out for the entire night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expressed as an Action; Experienced as a Feeling

It’s _right there_ and Enjolras is alarmingly aware of this fact. He’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes, unable to think of anything else – even the movie, which is one of his favourites. Everyone else in the room is completely relaxed, eating chocolate and drinking wine and watching the film avidly, while Enjolras sits there feeling tense and anxious.

Because Grantaire’s hand is _right there_ , and Enjolras wants to hold it so badly.

He knows Courfeyrac’s noticed his struggle, raising an eyebrow at him and grinning, but he doesn’t think anyone else has. It’s horrible. He wants to reach out and press their palms together, fingers intertwining. But he has no idea how Grantaire will react, and the thought of making that move – of putting himself on the line – is utterly terrible.

Courfeyrac mouths, “Just do it,” at him, and Enjolras shakes his head minutely, eyes widening in a warning. Courfeyrac rolls their eyes at him. “Watch this,” they mouth, and then they scoot over to Jehan and take hold of their hand, leaning their head on their shoulder. Jehan startles, looking down at them in surprise, but then they start to smile, and they relax into each other, both smiling helplessly.

Enjolras glares at Courfeyrac, because how can it be that easy? It’s not. Not for him. Everyone and their mothers knows about how Jehan feels, of course it’s easy for Courfeyrac to just put themself out there like that. It’s different with Grantaire. Grantaire’s a mystery. In fact, Enjolras would bet that, if it all came out, Grantaire would be more likely to _hate_ Enjolras than like him like that.

It makes Enjolras stomach knot up just thinking about it, and his palms feel sweaty, and Grantaire’s hand is still _right there_. Enjolras takes a deep breath to steady himself. He can do this. He can get through the remaining – oh, God – hour and a half of the film. After that, he can move. He can sit somewhere else, or excuse himself and go to bed – anything to stop him from being sat here next to Grantaire, and thinking about holding his hand.

Enjolras twists his own two hands together and tries to relax and stop thinking just for a moment. It’s impossible. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Grantaire laugh at something on the screen – just a small smile and a quick exhale of breath – and Enjolras _hates_ this. He casts a panicked look at Courfeyrac who just grins smugly back at him and Enjolras hates them right now.

Grantaire’s fingernails are painted an obnoxious shiny silver colour and they keep glittering in the light from the screen, making it hard to ignore that his hand is _right there_. Grantaire’s hand is resting on the cushions in the small space between the two of them, and all it would take is two seconds of reckless courage for Enjolras to move his own hand and wrap it around Grantaire’s, and he _can’t do it_.

Enjolras, who throws himself into fistfights without a second thought. Enjolras, who can stand up in front of thousands and give a speech without once getting self-conscious. That very same Enjolras can’t hold someone’s hand.

He can’t shake the feeling that Grantaire might laugh at him. He couldn’t bear that. To put himself out there, to finally actually do something about his crush, only to have Grantaire laugh would be too much. His bones feel tense, his stomach is knotted, and his throat feels thick. His hands would be shaking if he wasn’t holding them so tightly.

He gets up, too abruptly to seem normal, and walks out of the room. He heads for the kitchen and opens the fridge immediately, praying that the noise signals to the group that he’s just getting a drink so no one follows him. Of course, that would be too much to ask.

Someone knocks on the door frame. “You alright?” Grantaire – of course it’s Grantaire – asks.

Enjolras turns his head to look at him for a second and then goes back to looking inside the fridge. Needing to be doing something, he grabs a yoghurt from one of the shelves and then closes the fridge and goes for the cutlery draw.

“Fine,” he says, still not looking at Grantaire.

Grantaire chuckles, gently. “You’ve been on edge all evening,” he says.

“I said I’m fine,” Enjolras snaps, the sound of Grantaire laughing suddenly grating.

Silence floods the kitchen for a long moment, and Enjolras stares down at the countertop, back to Grantaire. He lets go of the yoghurt and spoon. Eventually, he turns, seeing Grantaire standing in the doorway looking calm. Enjolras leans up against the counter. He swallows. “I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“But you did,” Grantaire points out. “What’s that about?” He looks a little amused, actually, and Enjolras feels himself blushing. He looks down at his hands.

“I’m just tired,” Enjolras lies, unable to look at Grantaire, dreading the knowing look he’s sure he’ll receive.

“Tired,” Grantaire echoes. Enjolras chances a glance up at him before looking away again. He hears Grantaire move, is aware of the footsteps coming towards him. Grantaire stands beside him, leaning up against the counter, too. “You sure about that?” His voice is gentle, kind, and Enjolras feels helpless and weak. He never feels weak.

He shakes his head, a small movement. His hands feel sweaty again and his fairly sure they’re shaking. “I…” he stares, throat tight and voice thick. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. He can’t look at him. In a small voice, he confesses, “I wanted to hold your hand.” He feels so small, shaken and fragile. He shuts his eyes and wills himself not to cry. _Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh_.

Grantaire asks, “So why didn’t you?”

Enjolras stills. He keeps his eyes closed and attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. “What?” he asks.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says, sounding soft and patient. “My hand was there because I _wanted_ you to hold it. That was me making half the move for you.”

Enjolras opens his eyes and looks up at him, suddenly, feeling hot all over and so very nervous. “You want to hold my hand?” he asks.

Grantaire smiles at him. “Of course I want to hold your hand, Enjolras.”

Enjolras blinks in confusion, but he can feel a tentative smile working its way onto his face. “I don’t understand,” he says. “You don’t… You don’t even like me.”

Grantaire pulls a face, but he’s still smiling through it. “That’s news to me,” he says. “I was under the impression that I was half in love with you.”

Enjolras blinks multiple times in succession trying to understand too fast. “You’re half in love with me?” he asks.

Grantaire laughs, softly. “I am, yes,” he says. He offers Enjolras his hand. “We can hold hands in here, if you’d like. And, if you’d like, we can go back through there and hold hands while watching a movie, too.”

Feeling braver than he’s ever felt, Enjolras lifts his hand and fits it into Grantaire’s. His hand is warm, skin smooth, and it’s wonderful. He says, “You know where else we could hold hands?”

Grantaire smiles. “Where?” he asks.

“On a date?” Enjolras suggests, unable to stop a grin from spreading over his face.

“I’d like that very much,” Grantaire agrees. He squeezes Enjolras’ hand. “Now, shall we go back in?”

Enjolras nods, clinging to Grantaire’s hand.

Together, they head back into the living room, and this time when they sit down on the sofa, their shoulders are pressed together and Enjolras is holding Grantaire’s hand. He can’t stop smiling, feeling silly and giddy and so very happy as Grantaire’s thumb brushes over his skin. He knows that the others are probably watching the pair of them, knowing something’s changed, and he doesn’t care one bit. Because Grantaire’s hand is in his.

At the end of the evening, Enjolras pulls Grantaire into the kitchen by the hand and smiles up at him in the bright lights. He says, “Thank you.”

And Grantaire replies, “You’re welcome.” Then he says, “Next time you want to hold my hand, go for it. I promise I won’t make fun of you, or be angry. I promise I’ll want to hold your hand too.”

Enjolras smiles, glances down at the floor and then back up at Grantaire. Their hands are still pressed together. “And what if I wanted to kiss you?” he asks, making the most of the bravery that he seems to have found in Grantaire’s encouraging smiles.

Grantaire grins. “I’d recommend asking, in that case, but I’ll probably say yes most of the time.”

Enjolras laughs, a little breathily. “So?” he asks. “Can I kiss you?”

And Grantaire says, “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading i hope you liked it haha :)
> 
> I have a writing blog: theskyis-forever come say hi and leave a prompt :)
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


End file.
